


Fire Away

by loubuttons



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fire Away by Niall Horan, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Slash, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Platonic Cuddling, Precious Peter Parker, Sleep Deprivation, Someone make Tony go to sleep, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 00:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loubuttons/pseuds/loubuttons
Summary: Tony isn't sleeping. Peter tries to help.





	Fire Away

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from Fire Away by Niall Horan. The lyrics are also thrown in there at random points. This isn't slash, Peter is just trying to help out his dad.

_ You keep saying that you're alright _

_ But I can see it through your fake smile, you're not _

_ There's a reservoir in your eyes _

_ That you've been holding back a long time, what's wrong? _

 

Peter passed a soothing hand over Dum-E's "head". The robot whirred, almost sadly. Sometimes, Peter forgot that Tony's companions weren't human, especially when they seemed to worry about their creator almost as much as Peter did. Working alongside Tony, Peter never would have guessed that Tony hadn't slept in over two days if F.R.I.D.A.Y. hadn't told him. His hands, worn and tired as they were, never faltered or shook. When Peter subtly suggested they go upstairs, just to take a break, Tony didn't look up. 

 

"Yeah, sure, Tater Tot," Peter sighed inwardly at his new nickname, "Just come back down before you leave and tell me goodbye," 

 

So subtle wasn't going to work today, 

 

"Come with me," He asked, "We can order Italian and watch a movie or something," 

 

He saw how tempted Tony was to decline. Whatever was going on couldn't be fixed with dinner and a movie -- or, if Tony had his druthers, doing Peter's homework over two cups of coffee -- and Peter knew that. But Tony would be out of the lab for the first time in days, and that was a start. So he fixed his most pleading expression in place and watched Tony crumble. 

 

Tiredly, he sighed, "Alright, Kid. Just let me finish this thruster," 

 

"Ok," Peter chirped, plopping down on Tony’s work table. 

 

Tony blinked at him, “That means: Go upstairs, I’ll see you when I’m done,” 

 

“Nah,” Grinning slightly, Peter shook his head. 

 

If he left Tony alone, he would hide in the lab until it got so late Peter was forced to leave. They’d played this game before. Peter braced himself for a snapped retort, and reminded himself that it was just Tony, who’d never meant the things he’d said before. He was pleasantly surprised when Tony inhaled, as if struggling to compose himself, and said nothing. Happily, Peter swung his feet like a much younger child. It was a start. 

 

“If you’re staying, make yourself useful. Come hold the clamp away from my fingers,” 

In his haste to clamber off the table, Peter nearly tripped over his own feet. If Tony staying calm was a start, this was a miracle. Tony often helped him with his projects, and sometimes constructed new ideas to be co-created by them, but Peter had never been allowed to work on an actual  _ Iron Man _ suit before. This was Tony’s armor, his only defense against brutal attack. Peter treated the thruster with reverence. 

 

As usual, the work went by quickly when done together. His excuse gone, Tony reluctantly followed Peter upstairs. His exhaustion was evident with every step, but he continually ignored Peter’s suggestions of rest. Once out of the lab’s harsh light, Tony’s wrinkles weren’t so prominent. He was nearly convinced Tony was fine -- nearly. 

 

“I don’t want Italian,” Tony announced, “We’re having soup from...somewhere, I don’t know, F.R.I.D.A.Y. just get me soup,” 

 

Peter agreed readily; if Tony actually had an appetite, Peter could play along. When Tony was tired, he had opinions. If Peter even slightly contradicted him, they’d spend the next hour arguing over soup. Due to the compound’s security, a delivery that should’ve taken ten minutes ended up lasting over an hour. Anxiously, he watched Tony’s patience thin, and hoped he would still be hungry when the food arrived. 

 

Peter had only seen this happen three times before. Apparently, eating and sleeping were daily struggles for Tony. With both Rhodey and Pepper out of town, it fell to Peter and an AI to make sure Tony didn’t put himself in the hospital again. But Tony was a damaged person, and Peter could only do so much. Desperately, Tony had tried to conceal that part of himself from Peter, just so the world wouldn’t seem so bleak to an already-jaded boy. He hid it so well, in fact, that sometimes Peter forgot about the bad days he wasn’t allowed to mention until F.R.I.D.A.Y was informing him of Tony’s “current condition”. The first time, he’d found Tony half-mad with sleep-deprivation and vowed he’d never let it get that bad again.  

 

“Hey,” Peter near-shouted in the silence to banish bad memories, “I got an A on my Spanish exam,” 

 

“That’s great, Butterbean. I knew you would,” Tony’s second cup of coffee was slowly disappearing

 

They ate quietly, Tony slurping his soup periodically to annoy Peter, then swearing up and down his did no such thing. Between Peter’s complaints, he saw Tony’s smiles grow more forced. The soup settled poorly in Peter’s stomach but at least Tony made a show of finishing his own. 

 

“So...movie or English homework?” 

 

Surprisingly, Tony actually enjoyed language arts. Peter had put off writing a three-page paper specifically so Tony could help him. Not that Peter needed it. 

 

“Movie,” Tony answered immediately. His eyes were so glassy they looked like a reservoir of unshed tears, “I don’t feel like thinking for much longer,” 

 

Internally, Peter celebrated. Maybe Tony would give in and fall asleep on the couch. Halfway through The Breakfast Club -- a movie Tony hated passionately -- it became abundantly clear to a dozing Peter that Tony had no intention of falling asleep. The third time Peter’s chin hit his chest Tony met half-lidded eyes with wide, alert ones. 

 

“Did you call May?” 

 

Peter nodded, “After I got out of school,” After F.R.I.D.A.Y. called him, “She said I could stay until Saturday morning. Is that okay?” 

 

Tony blanched, “Yeesh, that’s a long time. You sure you wanna stay that long?” He’d completely ignored Peter’s question. 

 

“Today’s Thursday, Mr. Stark,” 

 

“I know that,” He clearly hadn’t known that, “Well, it’s still a school night, and you’re obviously beat,” Peter’s protests were masterfully dismissed, “No, you’re going to bed -- if you’re late again, May will kill us both,” 

 

Frantically, Peter tried to think of any excuse to stay awake. Tony still hadn’t gone to bed. Glancing at the time, he saw his mentor was nearing the sixty-third hour mark. 

 

“At least let me finish the movie, Mr. Stark,”  He tilted his head, imploring. 

 

After a pause, Tony rolled his eyes, “Fine, whatever. I tried,” Throwing up his hands, he scowled moodily at the TV. 

 

Peter smiled and relaxed into the plush couch, “Thanks, Mr. Stark,” 

 

“Yeah, whatever,” 

 

_ Hold me close but at a distance _

_ Thinking I don’t ever listen, but I do _

_ I know sometimes it gets confusing _

_ You might be lost but I ain’t losin’ you _

 

As he considered how little time he had left to coax Tony into sleep, Peter decided to pull out all the stops. Tony disliked intimate contact; hugs were often refused. But Peter knew direct contact with someone you...cared about could help relax your body and mind. Cheeks burning, and praying this worked, he moved so near to Tony their legs pressed together and tucked himself under Tony’s arm. 

 

Tony tensed. Before he could make a joke and tell Peter to move, Peter curled his fingers into the fabric of Tony’s shirt. He heard Tony’s mouth snap shut. As he drifted closer to rest, confusion washed over Peter’s mind -- the feeling of Tony’s racing heart under his cheek felt more right than most things Peter ever remembered experiencing. 

 

He fell asleep like that, with his head pillowed on Tony’s chest. Tony never twitched, his body still taught when the movie ended. Gently, he shook Peter awake, looking lost. 

 

“Movie’s over. You should head to bed,” 

 

“Okay,” Peter yawned, too tired to be abashed, “You should, too,” He’d gripped Tony’s shirt so tightly his fingers ached. 

 

Tony forced him to sit up by leaning forward, “Nice try, Kid,” Standing, he ruffled Peter’s hair, “‘Night,”

 

“Goodnight,” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

 

As Tony walked away, he threw passing words over his shoulder, “I’ll be in my lab, if you need me,” 

 

Defeated, Peter sighed. He’d try again in the morning. 

  
  
  


_ And I will steady your hand _

_ When you’re losing your grip _

_ And even if I don’t understand _

_ You can talk to me _

_ Fire away _

 

Morning came, and Peter had no time. Tony skillfully sent him on his way, leaving no room for argument. While at school, Peter felt crushingly guilty. Constantly, he pictured Tony’s weary eyes and prayed he would sleep while Peter was gone. 

 

As soon as he entered Tony’s lab that afternoon, it was clear he hadn’t. The lab was a wreck, with Tony at the center of it all. He almost vibrated with manic energy. 

 

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter greeted, struggling to not sound dismayed, “What are you working on?”

 

Tony didn’t look up, his habit of talking himself through a process more than enough conversation. 

 

“Mr. Stark?” Worried, Peter approached slowly. 

 

“Oh, hey, Kiddo,” Tony mumbled, “You’re still here? I thought you left Saturday,” 

 

“Today’s Friday, Mr. Stark,” Peter sat next to him on the floor, an engine deconstructed around them, “I just got out of class,”

 

“Uh, huh. Sounds good, Tater Tot,” 

 

“Mr. Stark, did you hear what I said?” 

 

“Yeah, to be honest, I wasn’t listening,” 

 

Peter sighed, at the end of his rope, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., how long has he been awake?” 

 

Tony’s head, which had been bent over a carburetor, snapped up, “F.R.I., don’t answer that,” 

 

“I’m sorry, Boss, but your well-being overrides my command controls in non-life-threatening situations,” 

 

Scoffing, Tony said: “Remind me to reprogram you later,” over F.R.I.D.A.Y’s answer. 

 

“Seventy-eight hours?!” Helplessness made Peter’s voice rise an octave, “Mr. Stark, go to bed!” 

 

“It sounds a lot worse than it is -- calm down,” Tony pressed a spare piston ring in Peter’s hand, “Here, hold this,” 

 

Dumbfounded, Peter took it. Finally, he realized no amount of scheming or subtle comments would be enough, and placed a hesitant hand on Tony’s shoulder. 

 

“Mr….Mr. Stark? What’s wrong?” 

 

Absently, Tony patted his hand, “Nothing, Spider-Boy. Hand me my coffee,” 

 

“No,” 

 

Tony leveled a challenging look at Peter’s stubborn face, “Excuse me?” 

 

“I’m not handing you your crutch that you use to stay awake!” 

 

Peter hadn’t finished speaking before Tony interrupted at an obnoxious volume, “Well, that shows how much you know. It’s decaf,” 

 

“No, it isn’t,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. cut in. 

 

Betrayed, Tony glared at the ceiling, “Wow, twice in one day? I’m - I’m just too smart, I guess. My AI is too good,” 

 

“You’re very smart, Boss,” 

 

“Flattery won’t save you, F.R.I. -- your system is getting a total overhaul in the morning,” 

 

“Does that mean you’ll go to bed?” Peter asked hopefully. 

 

“Scratch that, F.R.I.D.A.Y., schedule your reprogramming for tonight,” 

 

“Mr. Stark!” 

 

“That’s my name,” Tony grunted as he stood, “Don’t wear it out,” 

 

Before Peter could answer, he reached his work table, right behind Peter’s head. When Tony picked up his mug, the hair on the back of Peter’s neck stood on end. In a flash, he reached backwards and up to catch Tony’s falling mug. They stared at each other in shock. The hands that never shook were trembling now. 

 

“Are you okay?” Peter was at an awkward angle, with his hand lightly grasping the bottom of a cup he couldn’t see above his own head. He’d craned his neck to see Tony’s face. 

 

“Uh, I don’t know,” The whispered confession made Peter’s chest ache, “I don’t know,” 

 

“You can talk to me, Mr. Stark,” Slowly, he lowered the coffee mug back onto the table. 

 

“You’re not gonna understand,” 

 

“I can try --”

 

“I don’t want you to,” Tony had a disconcerting habit of speaking too intently suddenly. Peter flinched, “I don’t want you to understand,” 

 

Peter, still on the floor looking up, spoke gently, “It’ll be okay, Mr. Stark. You don’t need to be scared and-and hold everything in all the time. Just...fire away,” 

 

Tony sniffed, his face blank. Aware that he was being sized up, assessed, Peter held his ground. 

 

“Do you have any metal in your body?” 

 

The abrupt topic change left Peter stuttering. “No, uh, no,” 

 

Tony crossed his arms across his chest and lifted his chin, “Well, good. Because it hurts when it rains,” 

 

Understanding dawned on Peter -- it had been raining for the past week. He looked at Tony’s glowing heart and wondered how many pieces held him together. 

 

“Ever broken an arm?” 

 

“No,” 

 

“I broke this one,” Bravely, Tony held up his left arm for Peter’s inspection. It shook so badly Peter was surprised Tony had been building anything at all, “Or, someone else broke it for me -- crushed it, I guess, under a car. It doesn’t matter, the point is, it snapped in three places and the only time it doesn’t hurt is when I’m here, so….” 

 

His words lilted on, his inflections varying oddly. Peter realized that he wasn’t the only superhero who rambled. 

 

“I can’t sleep,” Tony shrugged, his mouth set in an apologetic line, “Because I can’t fix anything. I can’t fix my heart or my arm or my nightmares or --” He cut himself off suddenly, but Peter had a good guess as to what he had almost said, “But this...this I can fix. Or at least try to,” 

 

As Tony waved an errant hand to his engine, Peter stood. 

 

“I have nightmares, too,” His small admission hung heavily in the air, “Do you think that means I’m broken; that I need to be fixed?” 

 

“No,” 

 

“Then take that one off your list, because I don’t think the nightmares are ending anytime soon. For either of us,” There was a hint of defiance in his tone. 

 

Tony’s eyes softened, but only just, “I know that, Kid,” 

 

“I can’t stop the rain. I can’t fix your arm. But I do know that you can’t keep doing this, Mr. Stark,” 

 

Tony shrugged again. Peter thought he might be trying to physically dislodge his words, “Yeah, well, it’s worked so far,” 

 

“No offense Mr. Stark, but no, it actually hasn’t,” 

 

Toying with his coffee, Tony snorted, “Maybe not,” 

 

Victory was tangible. 

 

“Come upstairs, Mr. Stark. Take a nap on the couch,” 

 

“Whatever you say, Spider-Man,” As Tony clapped a hand on his shoulder, Peter smiled. It was a start.    

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed it! This was my first irondad work. Let me know if you liked it with comments or kudos.


End file.
